


Devil's Train

by properjitterbug



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Demon Deals, Demon boi's are my jam, Demons, Except for Alastor, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Original Character(s), no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/properjitterbug/pseuds/properjitterbug
Summary: Mortals are known for resorting to drastic measures when things tend to get a little out of hand. Some find themselves desperate and reach for establishments or those who may have answers. Some become friendly with carnal vices; alcohol, drugs, gambling -- what have you. Others sink into despair, becoming husks of what they once were, a pitiful excuse of an intellectual human being.That was where Alastor came in.
Kudos: 11





	Devil's Train

Mortals are known for resorting to drastic measures when things tend to get a little out of hand. Some find themselves desperate and reach for establishments or those who may have answers. Some become friendly with carnal vices; alcohol, drugs, gambling -- what have you. Others sink into despair, becoming husks of what they once were, a pitiful excuse of an intellectual human being.

Others fall so far from grace their minds begin to believe in the unknown whispers trickling over their shoulders. Believe in the vague shapes that haunt the recesses of their waking nightmares. Believe in the things that go bump in the night.

True it was that some people were simply easier to influence than others. It wasn’t their fault, they barely had any will to call their own. These individuals were malleable, nearly blank slates, temptation pulling on them like puppet strings. 

Either way, it honestly didn’t matter where motivations came from. What was important was intent. Intent to resolve their desperation, no matter how frantic their determination. The means to their end wasn’t crucial either. It was all about intent. A test to see how far their desperation --  _ starvation  _ \-- drove them.

And when they knowingly face those very same things that go bump in the night? They may have someone or some _ thing _ answer back.

That was where Alastor came in.

Now, please be advised, Alastor doesn't answer every summoning that may speak to him. Indeed, in the beginning he had his fun with bargaining with the hopeless, the dejected, and the addicted. And for a time, it fulfilled his amusement. However, as the games came and went, it became tedious. The monotony had become something he could effortlessly recite. Mortals may word their agony, their desires with varying vocabulary; but it was all  _ repulsively _ predictable.

Like a true entertainer, Alastor relished in games. Whether started by his own craft or by someone else was of no consequence, by the end of it Alastor would gain the upper hand. As such, he mostly ignored the petty summonings that were hardly worth his attention. Unless he felt inclined to fill any stagnation. No, he much preferred if the individual was partially fascinating. The best ones were those who carried morbid curiosity, the ones who were naturally drawn to the thinning veil, the ones who sought the misery of others.

Alastor can appreciate that.

These types tended to have a semblance of unpredictability. They changed up the game, offered more allure. And on a couple of occasions, there were a few that attempted to outsmart Alastor. Be sure to remember that keyword:  _ Attempted.  _

So, when a request came through it caught Alastor’s attention. The root of the motivations were vague, but the intensity behind the intent tickled his amusement. It would be ungentlemanly to refuse such an enticing welcome.

Manifesting onto the mortal plane had become seamless when his presence was sought out. He phased with ease from one realm into another, much like walking into another room.

Alastor’s shadow twisted and danced behind him, reflecting his own face-splitting grin. Taking another step, a subtle  _ clang _ echoed in his ears. Glancing down curiously, Alastor perceived he was standing on steel rails, laid out in front of him far beyond the eye could see. The loud beckoning of a train’s horn wailed in the distance. He cocked his head at the observation.

“My god, you’re real,” came a voice from behind him.

Intrigued, Alastor whirls around, the frayed seams of his pinstripe suit flutter behind him. His stark crimson eyes land on a man standing before him with wide, gaping eyes. Alastor narrowed his gaze, sizing up the man. He wore a modern black suit, tailored and cut to his personal dimensions. The man had neatly slick black hair with gray eyes, age wrinkling around their creases.

Revolving around the man, were the pulses of chants. Impossible for mortal ears to hear, but for deal-makers like Alastor, they were clear as crystal. The repetitive, rolling whispers resounded into Alastor’s head, provoking his fascination. They revealed secrets. Secrets of hunger, primal deeds and wishes buried beneath a black suit and polished shoes. 

The game has begun. Time to put on a show.

Smoothing back his hair and dusting off his sleeves, Alastor spun his microphone lithely in his hands. Somehow his grin widened further, bowing with a flourish.

“As real as the nose on your face, good sir,” confirmed Alastor. Straightening, he leans forward, pressing a finger to the man’s chest. “And you are?”

“Gabriel,” the man replied, his surprise vanishing swiftly. 

Alastor watched Gabriel run a composing hand through his hair. His speed of recovery is impressive, Alastor admitted. And that merely increased his interest.

“Well, Gabriel, it’s a pleasant night for a walk. Care to join me?” Alastor felt the satisfying trickle of using the mortal’s name. Names had  _ power, _ after all.

“Uhh… sure,” answered Gabriel, somewhat caught off guard. He likely didn’t expect a demon overlord would invite him for an evening stroll.

Not that Alastor cared. He hadn’t been to the earthly realm in some time. He was going to indulge himself in the crisp, southern evening. The murky overcast in the dark sky enhanced the distant floating glow-orbs of fireflies. A chorus of crickets ringing in the air. It brought faraway memories of steaming and spicy food, lively nights of decadent festivities, and sacred traditions.

You can take the Demon out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the Demon.

“Tell me. What brings a dapper cake-eater such as yourself to the tracks?” began Alastor, peering at the mortal in the corner of his eyes.

Gabriel blinked, bewildered at the strange choice of words. He countered with, “Surely you must know why I’m here.”

Alastor snickered, crackles of static lacing its undercurrent. Adjusting his monocle, Alastor stared at the man with a cold gleam.

“Humor me,” he declared.

Beyond them, the echoing bellow of the train’s horn resounded. Closer.

Gabriel licked his lips before stating, “I come with a gift as part of my boon.”

Alastor perked a brow. He gestured with a hand. “Go on.”

“I’ve heard the stories about you. I know you deal in souls. Instead of mine, I brought someone else’s to barter for my reward,” explained Gabriel.

Alastor’s pupils expanded, feeling the heat beginning to morph them into eager dials. Quickly, he suppressed the urge; he couldn’t show his hand yet.

“Oh? Is that so? I don’t believe I’ve ever come across an offer like that before, sounds like the kind of moxie I’m partial to,” Alastor mused honestly. It was a surprise to him that after all this time, no one had the idea to bring him  _ another’s _ soul. Dissolving into shadows, he materialized behind the man, continuing, “And what kind of appetites would you like me to fulfill in return? Money? Fame? Love?”

Gabriel glanced at the demon’s hand curling on his shoulder. He shook his head. “I have everything I could want. Everyone envies me. But, I’m not a good person --”

The roar of laughter barked from Alastor’s throat before he realized. “Why, of  _ course _ not! Only the seediest of miscreants make deals with shadows.”

“-- I  _ like _ doing horrific things. I  _ want _ to keep doing them. Without ever getting caught. I don’t want to stop. And I know you can make that happen,” finished Gabriel.

Oh, this was going to have Alastor in stitches. He rumbled a chuckle at the irony of the divine meaning of Gabriel’s name coinciding with his sick pleasures. He idly wondered if the Heavenly Almighty had a depraved sense of humor just like him.

Patting the man’s back, Alastor announced, “You’ve convinced me,  _ Gabriel _ .”

Whipping to stand in front of the man, Alastor waved away his microphone, neatly tucking his arm behind his back. With a shining grin, Alastor extended his other hand towards his new piece of entertainment.

“Do we have a deal?”

Shrieking in the air, the deafening bray of the train’s horn shouted. The rails began to quiver from a nearby vibration.  _ Closer. _

“Deal.” Shoving his hand forward, Gabriel clasped his around Alastor’s.

Electricity zapped through the air. The world around them fell away as their environment faded into a velvet darkness. Sounds became hushed, as if they were absorbed by the abyss.

Delight surged through the Radio Demon. He almost thought he could distantly feel a rush of euphoria, the closest sensation of his long decayed humanity. A shudder rippled up his spine, eyes alighting with fire as he felt the contract now sealed.

Time to show his cards.

“Oh, Gabriel, there’s something I forgot to mention,” Alastor coolly remarked, tightening his hold on the man’s hand. “You can’t sell someone else’s soul.”

Rightfully, Gabriel’s face drained of blood, eyes larger than his face. Breathless, “Wh-what…?”

Tilting his head to the side, Alastor continued, “Trifling detail, I know. It pains me to be the bearer of bad news, but a deal simply can’t be made that way. Otherwise, what would be the point?”

Gabriel’s crestfallen expression shivered, glassy tears forming. His lips trembled, trying to form words but he made no utterance.

“I bet you’re probably wondering what this means for you. Well, my dear fellow, allow me to enlighten you. You’ve just offered me your soul with no precise disposition.” Alastor walked his fingers up the man’s chest, reinforcing his words. “Your. Soul. Is. Mine.”

Alastor released his hold on the man’s hand. Gabriel immediately crumbled to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. A short cry of horror squeaked from his throat.

Grinning with expansive amusement, Alastor rolled his eyes. He meandered in a circle around the man, icily assuring, “Oh, come, come. It’s not all that bad. Why, I’ll still assist you in evading your earthly authorities. You can still act out your depraved fantasies as long as you bring me what is mine.”

Gabriel flicked his eyes up to the demon looming above him. Tremors wracked through his body but he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“And that is…?”

“People, my dear boy! People with immortal souls! Do what you will with them as long as they’re persuaded enough to submit  _ to me, _ ” Alastor exclaimed. “Think of it as a partnership, if that eases your trivial worries. And when you die--” he sinisterly chuckled -- “we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Gulping down some fear, Gabriel heaved a sigh. He didn’t have a choice, did he? 

Gradually, the darkness rippled away, oozing in slimy tendrils fanning and flickering into the recesses of the shadows. The innocent melody of the world’s sounds glided into existence, unaware of the nightmare at the train tracks.

“Now,  _ Gabriel”  _ \-- the man’s body became rigid, mind flashing into a blank -- “stand up and retrieve my gift.”

Under the trance of Alastor puppeteering his name, Gabriel obeyed without complaint. Or thought, really. He strode to his car down a ways and swung open the trunk. Alastor grimaced at the sight of such an abhorrence of machinery. These modern cars simply didn’t carry the quaint charm of the vehicles in his day.

However, Alastor’s mood brightened when his scarlet eyes landed on an unconscious, bound woman. Gabriel placed her on the ground at Alastor’s feet. Behind them, the train hollered as it swiftly chugged passed them. It’s horn blaring and shaking the air around them.

Alastor angled his head in interest as the loud locomotive roused her to wakefulness. Blearily, heavy eyelids fluttered open, mind slow as a pounding in her head fogged her clarity. She glanced up at the two figures staring hungrily down at her.

“Who -- who are you…?” she asked, barely audible.

“My dear, I’m the best friend you’ve always asked for,” stated Alastor, grin splitting so wide it reached his eyes and then some. A grin so malicious and bright it blinded the night and drowned out the train’s roar.

Let another round of the festivities begin...

**Author's Note:**

> I love charming antagonists, so it's really no surprise Alastor's my fave. He's such a fascinating character. There's a lot to dissect from him and I wanted to get into his head a bit. Hence, this fic. I wasn't supposed to write it, but I found myself typing away and who am I to say no LOL! I hope this fic helps me get into his mindset easier if I decide to write Alastor again.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it!!
> 
> Inspired from [ "Devil's Train" - The Lab Rats ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JtpHtuWnwQ&list=TLPQMjMwMTIwMjGtqMx9_Rg71Q&index=1)


End file.
